Well, dear Challenge!rs, I'm back with another tale of those adorable garden guys and gals, adored and abhored by many. So, get those pencils good and sharp and set the following to Mudcat Music. (Funny, I've had ne'ry a nightmare of knobbly gnome knockers...):

Naughty Gnomes Barred in Barnesley! -- BARNSLEY, England (Reuters) -- A British man has covered up his lewd garden gnomes with painted-on swimwear after police warned him he faced arrest for causing public offense.

While most garden gnomes fish or enact scenes of bucolic tranquility, ex-army Sgt. Tony Watson's models in the northern English town of Barnsley bared their breasts and buttocks, prompting complaints from the public.

"It is an offense to display something that is insulting or likely to cause distress," a police spokeswoman said on Wednesday. "Although some people view the gnomes as a bit of harmless fun, we have to take complaints from members of the public seriously."

One of the gnomes now sports a polka-dot bikini, said local resident John Threlkeld, who passes the gnomes every day on his way to work.

The Band Used To Play In the Garden

Tune: The Band Played Waltzing Matilda

Oh I heeded my hormones as a stony young gnome,, And threw caution away to the duster And I flaunted my shape, and my gnomish round stones And had good times, I'm telling you, Buster! I found sweet gnomesses plenty with delicate swerves And always excited to show me some curve And as soon as dark fell, we would work up some nerve Playing tickle and squeak in the garden.

We weren't much for fishing, or playing at boules Or those other ridiculous poses You wouldn't find my kind perched up on toad stools Or scratching their chins with their noses. As garden gnomes go, we were not from the mold We were lusty, and busty and foolish and bold And we never lost interest, just because it got cold, Sometimes being of stone's an advantage!

My crowd felt at home behind one ancient hall, In the yard of a Sergeant named Andy He was glad to support us, boobs, peckers and all Said he liked art that made him feel randy! So there we would gather, and there we would live Just awaiting the freedom the darkness would give Why the thought of it now makes me stand like a shiv, Life was good in that liberal garden!

But Tony got randy once too often, it seems And he wed, as the priests did desire She was shapely and all, but shared none of our dreams -- She'd flesh, but she didna have fire. And the next thing we know, she's a raising a stink! With her voice like a starling and her face burning pink Yelling that we should care what the neighbors all think! Though we'd never been troubled before that.

So my sweet Greta Gravel got wrapped to her neck In a tuutuu of fiberglass filler And my manhood's been buried and made me a wreck How on earth could I possibly thrill her? And it's polka dot dresses and underwear too, She made Tony paint us in dots white and blue Till we felt so refined that we wanted to sue! Oh, our lives are a proper disaster!

So now every day I stand still on the lawn Wrapped tight in my plaster bikini. And I stand there long after the daylight is gone For I have no more use of my weenie! And as for old Tony, that stupid young toff She's gone cold on him, claiming headache or cough When a bra's made of ice, well, you can't tear it off Any more than you can if its plaster.

And the nighttime has lost all its magic! And we stand there all frozen and stalled And year after year Our numbers are fewer -- Someday no gnome will stand here at all!

Oh lordy . . . what can I say, but this says it all. Here's a Golden B.L.O.B. for this whimsical whiz....ardry:

My crowd felt at home behind one ancient hall, In the yard of a Sergeant named Andy He was glad to support us, boobs, peckers and all Said he liked art that made him feel randy! So there we would gather, and there we would live Just awaiting the freedom the darkness would give Why the thought of it now makes me stand like a shiv, Life was good in that liberal garden!

Dear Aine, how wonderful! This one is to the tune of "Any dream will do" from Joseph and the Amazing technicolor Dreamcoat -- which is not in the DT. That's very wise, because it's one of those tunes, like the notorious "It's a small world" which will run round and round and round in your head for weeks until you holler for mercy.

Barnsley's Moon

Our Barnsley Green, it's so bucolic, Never melancholic, just a perfect scene. Far, far away, folks may be sinning, Have since the beginning, I've been told, it's true.

Fantastic, dear Deda! I'm so glad someone stepped into the shoes of the complainant and used his/her POV. Well done, indeed -- and may I say in so 'Barnseylish' a manner, too. ;-) And for your 'primly hesitating' (yet, oddly Poe-ettic) poetical pronouncement in the following verse, you are awarded a Silver B.L.O.B.:

Now we return To our life of virtue All at home by curfew, and the gnomes are still. For action hot, they still are waiting, Primly hesitating, And they always will. And they always will.

Cuilionn, I agree wholeheartedly with MMario, most eloquent, indeed; fraptious even. ;-) I had a very difficult time picking your most loquacious verse; but, this one deserves a B.L.O.B. just for rhyming Jee-zus and chemises. Fantastic!

Gnome-bodies stowed--so decent, their bods! Gnome-bodies stowed--praise Jee-zus! Once odd in the sod, now closer to God In Gnome-shorts and chemises!

The Gaelic Goddess is currently pretending to be suffering from allergies due to the drought; but she asked me to tell y'all she was delighted to hear this thread had been resurrected, as the assorted Gnomes songs were always among her favorites!